Sorry about how late the chapter is, my Beta accidentally deleted it and I had to start from scratch. Anyway the next chapter will be longer and more detailed. I was also hoping if you find any mistakes to please let me know so I can fix them, to better my writing. Thanks again.

Enjoy.

Sasuke and Naruto sat down at the bar so that if needed, eye contact could be avoided. Sitting side by side, each of the young men skimmed over the sparse menus, Naruto with little hesitation hastily shouted that he was ready. Sasuke stopped at a dish which was made of white chicken and vegetables. "Sounds well enough I suppose" he mumbled to himself.

The boys gave their fairly attractive waitress the orders and she sauntered away. Much to Naruto's chagrin, the beautiful woman took one look back and gently smiled at Sasuke, who didn't seem to take notice. "Figure's, woman throw themselves at him, and he couldn't care less, idiot." Naruto pouted inside his head. In reality it wasn't that Sasuke wasn't paying attention to the waitress, nor did he fail to see her try and catch his eye, he was lost in the reflection in the mirror behind the bar of the restaurant.

Sasuke could make out two faces. Two faces he knew too well. He could see Naruto's mouth moving, blathering on about this or that. He could see the curve in the golden haired boy's jaw line. He could make out the different tones and hues of Naruto's hair. Even his eyes, as blue as rain; so vibrant, so full of…life.

Then only a few inches away from Naruto's reflection, was his own. As Sasuke sat and stared himself in the bar mirror, he could see that while the scars on his face had faded, and were no longer apparent on the surface, they still lingered deep underneath. He thought to himself that it was ironic that his hair was black as silk… as night. From the outside he seemed smooth, mysterious, but on the inside he knew what lurked. What waited in him. He feared for the very few people he cared for, afraid that one day the boy who left to Sound, would return, and reopen old wounds. As he looked back and forth between himself and the blond, all he could hear in the crowded restaurant, were the screams from that night.

"Ne, Sasuke, what are you thinking about?" Naruto asked in a casual but friendly way. "Nothing" was all Sasuke could muster. The boys sat silent for a moment, neither moved nor breathed, they both had questions they wanted to ask, but they struggled with whether or not to acknowledge it was worth destroying what little they meant to one another.

"Your thinking about Sound, aren't you?" Naruto said uncharacteristically soft. Sasuke didn't say anything, he didn't move, he didn't utter a sound.

"Leave it to him to make a good guess the first time around." Thought Sasuke sarcastically.

"I know that you and the others don't think I can handle it, but what happened that night? The night we got you back home. I promise I can take it, I bet it's not even that bad, you guys are just trying to make keep me out, right? …… Right?"

Naruto's forced friendliness did not go unnoticed by Sasuke. He could feel Naruto staring him down, from the corner of his eye he saw the blonde bobbing impatiently, obviously uncomfortable in the situation. Sasuke knew all the answers to Naruto's questions. Sasuke knew better than anyone, and that's what made it worse.

"Why won't you tell me, come on I know you know, and you're the one who said I didn't know the whole conversation between you and Sakura-chan, so tell me!" Naruto squealed.

"NO. You don't need to know, you will never need to know, understood?" The outburst uncommon for the Uchiha raised a few eyebrows within the restaurant, but people paid little heed to the situation and quickly resumed their own conversations.

Naruto on the other hand sat still on his stool, clutching the edges of the seat. He tried to calm himself, but the anger was boiling within him. What was so important to hide? "I mean I know that Sasuke isn't a big talker, but there are just certain things you shouldn't hide form teammates…from friends." Naruto contemplated inwardly. At that moment the cute waitress from before walked towards the two young men with large steaming pots of food in each hand. After she set down Naruto's, he gently craned his neck to get a peak from the corner of his eye at the Uchiha. He saw the waitress smile and put down the bowl, but Sasuke seemed lost in thought. She walked away a little disgruntled, but not too upset. However, what caught Naruto's gaze the most was Sasuke's eyes.

They seemed almost black, devoid of color, and they blended into his pale skin like thunderclouds over a roaring sea. Naruto couldn't tell if what he was seeing was true, but it almost looked as if Sasuke was welling up with tears. His eyes seemed glazed and he was shaking so slightly, that only someone with amazing sight could see the small tremors.

Naruto had apparently been staring too intently and caught a fist to the back of the head. "What are you staring at, dobe?" The contact between Sasuke's hand and Naruto's head made Naruto tilt his bowl of Ramen ever so slightly, causing quite a bit of the broth to pour into his lap. His cries of agony made the waitress behind the counter giggle, and the raven haired teen next to him smile slightly.

"That was hot you ass! Now look at my clothes, they're all dirty, thanks to you." I didn't do anything dobe, it looked like you had an itch, and I was merely trying to be a friend and help you scratch it. But if you're going to act like that when I try to help you, I may stop giving the offers." Sasuke grinned, knowing he had thoroughly enraged his comrade. After the incident, Sasuke noticed his soup tasted much better than it previously had.

In the middle of the village sat a young looking woman. Her hair was long and golden and it curled gently around her face, accentuating her angelic physic. She sat against a stone bench which was situated in the middle of a rather large courtyard. In summer the courtyard would be full of roses, and the young woman breathed a sigh of dismay "When will this winter end?" she spoke only to herself. There was light breeze in the courtyard, and she pushed and pulled her long slender hands through the air, as though it was water. She took a not so elegant swig from a sake bottle which lay near her, and she was the perfect picture of a hard day's night. Images of a young man flashed through her eyes, it started when he was younger, only entering his teens.

The boy was full of laughter, imagination and genuine happiness. As the pictures slowly floated by her mind, she saw as he aged, matured. He grew not only in physical attributes, but in emotional and intellectual as well. He was becoming well rounded. As the young woman carefully sifted these images, her heart filled with peace and serenity, suddenly she found herself envisioning that night again, the night they brought her young friend home. She had worked as a medic for nearly 40 years though again her physical body declared otherwise and never in all her years, had she seen so much blood.

She would like to be able to say that when she first saw him enter her hospital she knew he would pull through. But she would be lying to herself if she said that. She knew all too well that with the amount of blood loss, the physical strain to his muscles and organs, and the trauma he had apparently withstood, the chances looked grim. It pained her so much to see him lying on the gurney that night. Always he had been so active, alive. Every time she saw him, he had something to say, be it good or bad, but he said it. Always a very affectionate boy, thought very few people ever saw it. When he was alone with just her, he would hug her and tell her she was doing a great job, and everything would be all right.

But tonight things were different. Tonight, his body lay there, covered in crimson hatred, his pulse nervous and unsteady. Eyes closed shut from swelling, bruises on his face, neck, back and chest, making him look more like a Chess board than a person. Frantically she clung to his hand, squeezing to see if a response would be elicited, a smile, a wink, a sarcastic comment. But nothing ever came. Motionless, he was pathetic looking. He was supposed to be stronger than this; he was supposed to be the one who protected everyone else. He was supposed to be the one who would save them all from something they dare not face.

She quickly began to pound on the young man's chest with her fists wrapped in to tight balls. She pounded as though he was a punching bag. As she wailed on the body she sobbed, her tears flowing down her face and landing hap-hazard on the young mans stomach. She stilled, her heart pounding, her throat dry as the Sahara, sight blurring. She gently cupped the boy's body, she scooped him up and brought his head to her chest. Her tears gone, her breathing normal, her hands still.. "Wake up" she bent to whisper in his ears, "Wake up" she said louder, "WAKE UP" she screamed with such passion and force the walls reverberated and the nurses trembled. She paused, waiting, hoping. She had never been a woman of pray but underneath her breath she recited any verse she could remember, "If only he would wake, if only I had not let him go, if only…" she sighed .

Silence…

"Where am I?" as weak as a mouse the boy came to.

"Your warm..." he carefully nudged her.

"Is he here?" he asked simply.

To this the woman replied "Yes, he's back, you brought him back…" she cried softly, but these were tears of thanks, to whatever saw this young man through the night, they were tears of repent, tears of joy, tears of hate. But no matter, he was back, safe in her arms.